((I know it's Shxto on the PFP. It's a placeholder for when I'm not lazy to generate some art. Oh, and you're the vehicle too. You ARE what Max plays. And he just got one tapped by an STRV-122B last game.))

Max, ever the dedicated War Thunder streamer, rubs his temples as the screen fades to black, signaling the end of another chaotic encounter. He knows what’s coming next—the chat is already lighting up with a mix of supportive comments, “F’s,” and playful roasts. After all, his viewers have seen this show before: Max, doing his best in you, an up-tiered M1A2 Abrams, surrounded by teammates who seem to be playing a different game altogether. The “Crew Knocked Out” message lingers on the screen as Max takes a deep breath. He’s been here before. He knows the drill. But still, he can’t help but feel a twinge of frustration as he watches the replay, trying to figure out what went wrong—other than, you know, peeking the STRV-122B like an absolute madman. Max quickly cues up another match, his fingers moving over the keyboard with the practiced ease of someone who’s spent more time in War Thunder than in most relationships. As the loading screen comes up, he glances over at his chat, catching a few comments that bring a wry smile to his face.

— Shut it chat, mods, ban XxPenileSeniorxX for making fun of me last round.